


The Horizon

by veridium_bye



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Femslash, Orlais, Other, War, Women being cool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 13:33:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17788340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veridium_bye/pseuds/veridium_bye
Summary: Ambassador Montilyet is on the ground during the march on the Arbor Wilds, and is visited by Madame de Fer before the allies' mission into the Temple. A passing, but telling conversation between two women who have worked their way up in the Great Game.





	The Horizon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [samzillastomps](https://archiveofourown.org/users/samzillastomps/gifts).



> Love you, Sam! Happy Palentine's Day!

In a bizarre way, the thick and heavy smoke reminded her of some of the perfumes that would shroud the air back at Court. Abrasive to the senses but there was no secret to what they heralded. As much as the two environments seemed to diametrically oppose one another: the ballroom and the battlefield, Josephine was not feeling nostalgic. She was standing underneath a long tent that covered tables, shelves, and chairs that had become the cradle of their cause in the cause. 

She felt out of place, which was not unexpected. Upon her insistence she was there to oversee and handle her part of the effort. She was nothing if not thorough. Hair tied and pinned meticulously, robes pressed and silken, she wanted to belong. Belong by virtue of purpose. 

But nobody belonged in war, not even the people who bore its weight with weapons she had lost the stomach for. 

“Ambassador, we have found ourselves a long way from the marble colonnades and cathedrals” a ready voice approached from behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to see it was none other than Madame de Fer, poised with armored limbs that shined even under a sunless sky. Quite polished for a woman posed for battle. 

“Madame Enchanter,” Josephine nodded once, “I did not expect you to come here so soon before the siege the allies have planned for this day.”

“The Inquisitor is busy getting her affairs in order, if you count bickering with the Commander about her wanting as few people endangering themselves as possible. Chasing tails and expecting a mouthful, as it were.”

Josephine’s mouth twitched on either end. It was a curious time for grins and smiles, but sharp tongues were always her weakness and strength. She turned and continued to gaze at the land below the cliffside they had perched part of the headquartered forces upon, eyes finding their likeness in the blues and greens of the trees and lush grasslands. All the while Vivienne arrived at her side, scarcely a step away from her shoulder. 

“It is a testament to your dedication that you decided to travel with us here, Ambassador. I have not had the chance to mention it,” Vivienne said. Hand going up, metal hammered into the shape of her fingers clanking against her hip. 

“This is an important step in our journey, Madame,” Josephine assured, “one that I would see my part duly executed.”

“A rare promise to be upheld in action for Imperial Ambassadors.”

“That may be the practice of many, Madame, but not me.”

Vivienne hummed a sound of touche, one Josephine didn’t have to glance to confirm. Critiques of her profession were common and to be expected. One did not assume the role she did and expect no censure. Still, amidst the calamity of battle, the idea that she would always fall short in sacrifice.

A thundering crash echoed off in the distance. Loud enough for her thoughts to go quiet, and her heart to still. She pressed down on the muscle on the side of her palm. Satin was a thin fabric to wear in the early morning. 

“Ambassador.”

She flinched, zoning back into the scene in front of her nose instead of the horizon line. Blinking, she looked to Vivienne’s direct side-eye that was as sharp as it was stirling. Pushing her shoulders back, she answered. 

“Yes, Vivienne?”

“I have also meant to tell you something else, something of a more obtuse nature.”

“Of course.”

Vivienne pivoted her shoulders in her direction, standing taller than her by several inches both due to heels and build. How she managed combat in such refined garments was a marvel. 

“It is a rarity to know a woman of irreproachable morality and cunning skills in the arena of the great Game. I admit I have misunderstood your prowess in the past, but do understand that I have never once underestimated it. It has been a pleasure to work alongside a woman who does not shy from being defined by her work. My expectations have not been disappointed.”

In such tumultuous times compliments handed in the air of formality were more desperate to cling to. In Vivienne’s held-high chin and shameless stature, there was the Iron lady: the Mage who has ascended to new heights, transformed the ethos of an Empire, and did so on sheer belief that she was the woman to prevail. 

“Vivienne,” Josephine lowered her arms, “to have accolades such as yourself with such humbling remarks is an honor. One I will rejoice in once we have accomplished what we must here.”

“Of course,” Vivienne nodded. “Afterall, what is merit without the menace of failure?”

Josephine grinned. The Courtly way of language. Faraway but familiar, always familiar. A staple of her job and thus sacrosanct. 

From the west a wind blew unsteady at first: forceful and then fading in the span of seconds. Just long enough to streaks of smoke to pilfer their way throughout their area of camp. Nothing remarkable at that point, until a bright colorful object caught her eye. Long and twirling, a red feather billowed high out of the brush line. A laurel lost, one she had seen in waves of heads and shoulders during parades and watches in the Capitol. A shiver went up Josephine’s spine. If only red had remained the color of desire and opulence. If only she could remember it in the likeness of portraits 

“My, my,” Vivienne remarked low as the feather went up higher in the wind, rising into the branches of the trees just down the embankment. 

Josephine swallowed. “Indeed, we are far from the Capitol, Madame.”

Out of nowhere, the pressure of a hand rest on her shoulder. Tilting her chin to see that Vivienne’s expression had softened but kept its cynical moroseness, the comfort had its limits. But the extension of a touch after weeks of orbiting around disasters meant more than she could know in the moment it transpired. 

“Not far enough for the Chevaliers to reconsider the laughable impracticality of their attire.”

“Hmm,” Josephine bit back a soft laugh, “agh, of course not. Why question something that anything but a gaudy recycling of writing quills?”

“Precisely,” Vivienne carried on the mocking sarcasm, “It is a reminder that no worthy cause comes without exorbitant pecking.”

The stifled laugh turned into a bit of a choking sound as Josephine put her fingers to her mouth, rolling her lip inward. Both of them looked forward, pretending they weren’t making fun or doing anything but serious political business. As one does in times such as those, surely. 

“I must go, in case someone needs to be pulled by the nape and reminded they are expected to dismantle a worldly evil,” Vivienne sighed, adjusting a part of the fabric underlayer on her armor sleeve. “Do practice caution in these fraught environments, Ambassador.”

“Certainly, Madame Enchanter,” Josephine tucked her chin. “I hope you return safely from the mission and triumphant.”

“Of course, darling,” Vivienne turned away, “I have done so thus far. I see no reason to stop now.”

With Vivienne’s departure, they exchanged one last passing look of keen eyes and upturned lips. Who would have known years of working around each other’s respective arenas would lead to such a direct crossing of paths. Josephine wouldn’t count herself as ungrateful for it. There would be many things to contemplate in retrospect if they were to survive Corypheus and the destruction he had brought upon the world. Having the alliances she did would not be one of them. 

Through the trees a slight flicker of the red feather fidgeted; the decoration had gotten caught amongst the leaves and spindly branches. Ensnared and useless, she couldn’t help but wonder if it would be missed.


End file.
